Why?
by Fractis
Summary: "Why do you wish you were dead?" "Because of you."


_**Why?**_  
Word count: 1,769  
Characters: 1p!fem!Canada (Marguerite), 2p!Italy (Luciano)  
Pairing: Itacan (?), mentions of Romanada (rare-pairs, aww yisss)  
Notes: Het, human!AU, based on the assumption that the 2p!s are darker than the originals.  
Warnings: Yandere!Italy, an obviously abusive and unhealthy relationship, implied assault (though which kind you believe it to be is up to you), a suicidal!Canada, injuries, some blood, some language, and Italy being the biggest asshole there ever was.

* * *

"Why do you wish you were dead?" he asks her, when the room is dark and shadows fall upon her gaunt, bony face.

She never knows when he'll ask such questions, because Luciano is unpredictable. He is unpredictable in the way a blizzard is; all calm before all hell breaks loose, ripping and tearing apart the memory of a beautiful day. Because of the unpredictability, Marguerite can't answer. While he is the sudden, raging storm; she is the calm rain that eases into a steady drizzle, and then a harsh downpour that ends with the sun coming out from the clouds, warming the muddy ground.

She is the incarnant of predictability and reason. She can't answer sudden questions that come out of the blue, that come out of the depths of thought, because she needs time to think, time to ponder.

The silence remains in the room, and she looks to the handcuffs that bind her to the bed; keeping her still, keeping her controlled and under his will. Her eyes wander to his face. Something flashes in her minds eyes, of the feeling of terror and sorrow and pain and defilement to the likes of which she had never felt. Violet eyes narrow and her muscles tense.

"Because of you."

The words are simple, softly whispered echoes of her former self. Her former, unbroken self would've yelled them at him, screaming the words so loudly they would shatter glass while she lashed out against her bonds. And he would have laughed, would have smiled, because he wouldn't have taken her seriously. Loud, angry, painful words don't scare him, or hurt him.

Soft, venomous words pulled from a 'toy' do.

She expects the wave of pain, the harsh slap across her face that comes next; because even though Luciano was unpredictable, his anger, his rage was the most predictable thing in the world. It was as constant and steady as the evening's news, appearing at the same time, in the same circumstances.

Ending with the same, sorry result.

She feels the sharpened blade at her throat, closes her eyes and smiles, softly, prettily. The smile he had wanted for himself. The smile he could never have up until now. How ironic for it to come only when he's taking away her life.

Her muscles relax, because he's doing the very thing she wants. Giving her freedom from him, freedom to do what she wants, freedom to make her own decision. Because this _was _her own decision, she had made the decision to tell the truth to him, to hurt him, to incite his rage.

The knife is pressed in, not enough to break the skin, just enough to mark it.

She smiles wider. She's playing him, bending him to her will, manipulating his emotions to get what she _wants_. To get him to do what _she wants_, finally it's the _other way around_. He's not controlling her, _**she's controlling him**_.

She feels the knife break the skin and blood trickle down to her collarbone, crimson staining pale flesh that hasn't seen the sun in who knows how long (because he won't let her go outside, because she might be _hurt_, because she might be _taken away from him_).

**_This is it._**

The knife is taken away.

Eyelids flash open and violet orbs shrink against their white backround. He's laughing. The devil is LAUGHING!

Unpredictable, once again.

Why?

"N-no, no, _no, NO_!"

"Ah, why the long face _bella_? Surely you didn't think I was going to kill you, I can't kill my _**precious**_ little bird."

_**Because I couldn't let you win, because I couldn't let you get what you wanted.**_

She remains still, mouthing 'no' over and over again. He had only been playing her. It hadn't been the other way around at all! He had only been letting her believe she had been _slinging him around_, giving her hope then shattering it into thousands of tiny pieces.

_**Because he likes playing cruel games, because he likes to see you hurting. He enjoys it, revels in it because it's beautiful to him. Didn't you know that by now? **_

Marguerite hates herself, hates herself for ever making that deal with the mafia to save Romano _from them_. It never really did any good anyway. It only caused hurt and suffering and pain and bloodshed to him, _**and**_ to her; that useless deal that had caused his bloody death and her imprisonment.

That deal...a deal with the devil they say, Luciano truly was the devil. Not just some cheap knockoff you see as 'evil' and 'unholy'; but some unthinkable monstrosity that lurks everywhere and can be passed by, unnoticed, because they look like everyone else, because they act like everyone else.

But they aren't like everyone else.

She's so caught up in her thoughts and her despair that she doesn't notice the placement of weight on he other side of the bed. She's so caught up in her thoughts that she doesn't notice her hand being released from the handcuff. She's so _caught up _that she doesn't even feel him pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly, keeping her still, keeping her from running away.

His words break into her thoughts with a pickaxe.

"_Ragazza_, speak to me. Tell me again, like you did before. _Why do you want to die so much? _Tell the truth this time."

"..." _I don't want to answer, _she tells herself

"I know you were lying _cagna_, you don't want to die because of me. _You love me, **remember**_. You said so yourself."

"..." _I'm not going to answer, _she tells herself

"Not going to speak anymore today, hm? Pity, didn't you ask me why I wanted to _keep _you so much earlier?"

"..." _D-don't you dare answer him, _she orders herself, mind wavering

"If you speak and answer me, I'll answer that question. Hm, what do you say?"

And she does want to know the answer, she wants it so badly. What about her had caught his eyes? What about her had made her _'special'_? What about her had made him want to lock her up like a bird in a golden cage for his eyes to stare at, for him to smile at, for him to _play _with and _shatter_ into tiny pieces?

She breathes in a shuddering gasp, struggling not to yell, struggling to keep herself from talking. His arms around her feel like oppressive chains, whispering to her that she must speak. That if she wants to know, she must tell another lie.

_**But there's already so many I've told.**_

_**But I want to know.**_

_**I want to know.**_

"...I want to die because...I-I want to see m-my friends, and _Papa_...I don't want to be separated from them..." the lie falls out of her dry mouth, catching on the papery edges of her tongue; and while it's true that she misses her family, misses them horribly, being separated from them is _**not **_the reason she wants to die. Marguerite had spoken the truth before, though he hadn't believed a single word.

"I can arrange for you to meet them later, would you like that?"

Her head snaps to him, pupils resting upon his tanned face with confusion. He was being so...kind now. Why? There had to be a reason.

"...Yes I-I would."

Now she bows her head, shifting in his tightly grasping arms. "T-there, I've talked. Can you tell me the a-answer n-now?"

He chuckles and buries his face in her soft hair, relishing the softness against his skin. She shudders and grits her teeth in disgust. The girl didn't want him near her, let alone touching her and being so close.

"Of course, _darling_. Now, you want to know why I'm keeping you here, why you're _special_ to me?"

She nods eagerly, wanting to get this over with as quickly and as painlessly as possible. She wants the knowledge in her head as soon as possible, after having no idea for so long.

Arms disappear from around her body. Her hand is latched to the bedpost swiftly by the iron cuff, and she looks to him with confusion and utter bewilderment. He smirks down at her, body looming over her flat form. Full lips part to speak.

"The reason...you'll see it when you look in the mirror."

**_LIAR! you said you'd TELL ME!_**

Violet eyes widen with shock and anger and rage. She lashes out, moves to punch him, hard, squarely in the chest. It's a pity she doesn't have as much movement as she'd like. He leaps backwards off the bed, smiling like a child whose teasing has done it's job. And it _has _done it's job. He's hurt her, incited her seldom occurring, but delectable anger that he loves so much.

She hates him, despises him like never before in that moment. Her hatred is so deeply embedded now, it places itself in every nook and cranny in her soul.

A screech pulls itself from her lips, and she pulls against her bonds. She's trying to reach him, reach him and _tear him apart_. _**But she can't**.__  
_

"Now now, there's no need to scream. I was only teasing you. You don't have to act like such a _child _about it." he laughs at her, his words- a whip being passed across her face. She only yells louder.

"Why are you _so angry_? I gave you my answer, I told you an answer. It's what you wanted, _sì_?" another unintelligible yell falls from her lips. He sighs, and turns to the iron door that seals off the bedroom from the rest of the forest mansion. His nimble fingers unlock it with the jangling key he wears on his neck. The door opens and closes, the click of a lock sounding behind him while he walks. Words are called over his shoulder.

"I'll come back later, when you can stop acting so _childish_."

"Until then, you're _alone_."

More yells and screeches, mingled with the starts of sobs fall from her mouth. The man doesn't hear them, he doesn't _want_ to, and he disappears down the hall and around the corner.

Like he had promised, Marguerite is left alone.

* * *

My poor bby ;_;

So, yeah. This story takes place before **Whether you Like it or Not**, before fem!Canada is completely broken and terrified of Italy.

And just to note, I _**do not**_support abusive relationships in any way, shape or form. And if you're in one, or think you're in one, I suggest you get help and talk to someone (I actually have some of the helplines on hand, so feel free to PM me if you need them).

Anyway, I hope this story was alright, and at least somewhat enjoyable to read.

_**Translations**_ (courtesy of google translate :/ )

_Bella_- Beautiful  
_Ragazza_- Girl  
_Cagna_- Bitch


End file.
